


I Want To Stay With You

by Horobinota



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Parents, Gen, Light Angst, Post-Game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 10:44:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11011842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Horobinota/pseuds/Horobinota
Summary: Frisk hadn't thought much about their decision to stay with Toriel when they got to the surface. It's not like they had anywhere else to go.Now, a month later, Frisk is attempting to manage an exhausting life as the "Ambassador of the Mt. Ebott Monsters", having to deal with smoothing over ever-growing tensions between monsterkind and the native human residents and trying to resume what could be considered a relatively normal childhood. At the very least, Frisk is able to live happily with Toriel, their kind, loving, goat monster of a mother, and the rest of their eclectic and questionably competent family.That is, until two humans stop by one day to inform Frisk of a slight change in plans:Their real parents are here to bring Frisk home.





	1. Prologue From A Peruser of the 11 O'clock News

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. I'm not sure what notes are for. But here I am writing one. This is my first ever official fanfiction, so bare with me here. I'm learning.  
> I hope you enjoy this weird little venture, a "what-if" scenario that went a little too far.

You would think nothing else had happened, at least in the eyes of the news. Perhaps nothing had. Nothing as big as this, nothing so spectacular, so fantastical. It has been one month since the monsters came pouring out of Mt. Ebott, hundreds of them. No warning, they just came. What had they expected, welcoming arms? Grand apologies? A new life ushering them in like a fairy tale ending? In the eyes of us, they were no longer even ghosts of the past. No, they were stories you told your child to discourage wandering minds and feet and delusions of adventure. A work of fiction. Perhaps this is why he always demanded she turn off the the TV whenever the news flashed on the screen, eager to weave yet another unbelievable tale. 

“Maybe just a few minutes?”

“I get enough of this at work. Eccentric, sensationalist bullshit. I won’t stand for it, they don’t know anything about the real situation.” He would snap shut whatever book he was reading and stalk out of the room, but she still turned off the TV anyways.  
Except for today. 

Just a few minutes, today. It wasn’t even her idea, she told herself. It was the insistence of her friend. “The little boy that lives with them, have you seen him? They call him their ambassador. He looks so much like you, it’s incredible! Did you ever have a nephew that went missing?”

“No, I was an only child,” she responded, and left it at that. 

She told herself to leave it at that. And yet, like a child eager to misbehave and stay up past their bedtime a few too many minutes, she leaned in closer to the tv, absorbing every detail. The headline flashed along the screen, “Monster Ambassador Speaks to Governor Daugaard Regarding Monster Citizenship”. How convenient for them, our state capital is in Ebott City, she thought. I wonder if monsters can drive, she thought. She thought and thought about the irrelevant things, because she didn’t want to think about that child’s face on the screen. How do the ones without arms drive? Did they even know what a car is? 

But eventually she ran out of things to think and focused on the face looking at her, persistent for her attention. A small boy, short, dressed in some sort of purple robe hemmed up- too big for him- something more befitting a Renaissance Fair attendee than an ambassador. Supposedly, the winged crest on the front was a symbol associated with the monsters. She paid it little mind, the crest meant nothing to her, after all.

It was the face that attracted her attention. Dark tannish skin, that reddened up in the cheeks. The eyes, so narrow and with such long eyelashes, one might think they were perpetually closed. Dark chestnut hair that came down less in strands and more in flat ribbons. A round face, soft, welcoming, friendly, telling the camera that they were a force for good, that the creatures they spoke for were innocent, merciful, loving.

Of course, “telling” is a difficult way to word it. They were not the one speaking. Their hands moved rhythmically, a flurry of signed symbols indecipherable by most of the audience. The Monsters’ Ambassador was mute.

But a voice still spoke out from the video recording, in time with each change in hand and stature, mimicking the boy’s inflection in an unnatural sounding voice. High, almost dissonant, as if two voices spoke over each other. It was one of the monsters, at least that is what she had assumed. Not one of the more impressive ones, a flower just slightly larger than her palm, with shredded golden petals that flicked up and down to match the speaker’s emotions, something akin to dog ears. It was coiled around the boy’s left arm like a boa, held by a couple red thorned vines. She wondered if the thorns hurt the boy, or if he even noticed anymore. 

The flower would look directly at the camera, an odd thing to see. It had the face of a demon, pit black eyes with little points of light the only indication it could see, a toothy mouth that seemed to twist and rip the surface of its “face”. Occasionally, imperceptibly, it would glance back at the boy’s hands. It was translating. And translating well, because it and the boy captured the attention of every wizened old man in that room, and every dead eyed face watching the 11 o’clock news. The flower spoke with the zeal of an old Baptist preacher, preaching of fire and brimstone. It knew how to capture attention. She wondered if it had practiced this often; perhaps a delicate flower often had to persuade others to leave it be. There was an eloquence in the speech, certainly. Something more suited to come out of the mouth of a politician, a royal, a leader. Then again, supposedly the speeches were written by the boy. The flower was merely a messenger.  
The fluidity of the delivery made it hard to tell. 

She watched the scroll bar inch its way along the bottom of the screen, attempting to gather any new information about all of this. It was much of the same. The monsters were fighting for everything, rights, right to live in our houses, work in our businesses, learn in our schools, vote in our elections. It was like a scene out of the history movies, the ones that preached about the evils of segregation. We liked to compare the ones with different skin, different faces to beasts, and that was wrong. But now the true beasts are asking for the same rights, what are the politicians to do then? 

These thoughts were a nice distraction from the image on screen, now. A shift away from the professional setting of the meeting, to a scene, probably outside of one government building or another. Reporters were clustered around a large group of monsters, each one eyeing the young ambassador like prized meat, the scoop of a lifetime. In response he sunk more and more into the lavender robes of the monster he clung to, its hand a life raft. He looked small in comparison, but somehow he found the creature standing just below 7 feet with great fangs protruding from it’s maw to be a less distressing site than the sea of human paparazzi. You could see it in his eyes when the camera zoomed in. Just a chick hiding beneath the protective wings of his mother hen. The image made her uncomfortable. She returned her eyes to the base of the screen.

The scroll bar told her that the ambassador’s name is “Frisk”. Frisk Dreemurr.

What a silly name, she thought. What is he frisking? Does he know what frisking means? He must know, he seems smart. Smart, so smart, just like him. He has his nose, and ears and skin, but not his eyes. He has my eyes.

“I thought I told you to turn it off.”

She jumped in her seat, caught in the act of pure curiosity. “I’m sorry, I just had to know. I needed to.”

“And now that you know?” He stood looming above her. He was not threatening, in fact his eyes held more sympathy than they did malice. Perhaps he was disappointed that this was how she found out. Perhaps he wanted to make it a surprise, complete with party poppers and balloons and a little boy wrapped up in ribbon. 

The woman paused, silent. Then, meekly, “Is it really him..?”

“I called the orphanage on Monday. According to their records, he went missing two months ago. Same physical description. If it is not, then it is the greatest coincidence I have ever had the displeasure of witnessing.”

There was a long, painful pause. You could hear the chimes on the porch dance delicately in the wind, distant sounds of cars passing the house, up much too late for a pleasant mountain suburb. It’s a nice house, she thought, to break up the silence. Above average, at least. Flat screen tv, guest room complete with twin sized bed, kitchen stocked with snacks. There’s a warmth to this house, as if all we needed was a gently crackling fireplace illuminating the family photo on the mantle, maybe a cooling plate of cookies or a pie on the windowsill. Yes, this house is too big for just two people. 

“I think I would like to go into town tomorrow.” She said.


	2. Heartfelt Life Discussions As Thinly Veiled Character Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shockingly, the small child tasked with brokering peace between two species last known for being at war, and in charge of babysitting a small homicidal house plant, is perhaps a tad stressed out. But it's okay, because Goat Mom is here to help. Sorta. 
> 
> All the ones you know, love, and tolerate are finally here. Very briefly.  
> \---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose I can mention here, I don't know if this story actually warrants a teen and up rating. There isn't really questionable content, but I uh. I swear frequently and with much enthusiasm I guess. And some more serious topics are gonna come up so yeah. Better safe than sorry? Anyways, here's another chapter. It's longer this time. 
> 
> Also, now is a good time to mention that any dialogue in [_] are interpreted as sign language and most dialogue in italics is being interpreted on behalf of Frisk (probably by Flowey). I'm sure you all could've figured that out but here's clarification just in case.  
> \---

“And what have we learned today~? ...Hey. Come on, stop your sniveling and answer me. Don’t be giving me anything about the blood going to your head, it’s not like you have a brain in there anyways.” Flowey looked up at the snotty red-faced mess of a school boy, currently dangling precariously by his right ankle, held up by a large green vine. Flowey had even had the decency to use a thornless one, out of the kindness of the empty pit where his soul probably should have been.

“I-I-I’m s-s-s-sorr *hic* rr-rryy..! I ww-won’t m-make f-f-f-un of m-m- *sniff* monsters no n-no more..!!” 

“Now what kind of conviction is that.” Flowey swung the boy slightly, enough to cause him to look even more nauseous than he already did. “Frankly, I’m unconvinced.” He was about to continue on, until he noticed a figure approaching in the distance, looking equal parts irritated and exasperated. “Actually I think that’s good enough. Dismissed.” Instantly the vine uncoiled from the boy’s foot and he dropped a short distance to the hard ground. Just high enough to hurt without leaving a mark. Meanwhile, the golden flower dove underground, as if that was a valid hiding spot, an “I can’t see you, you can’t see me” tactic. 

Frisk trotted up to the spot where a little bit of soil had been turned up by Flowey’s panicked plunge, staring down at the empty spot, shoulders hunched in an exhausted manner that spoke volumes about how frequent an event like this occurred. They knew something like this would happen. They weren’t allowed to bring him with them into that room. They had taken away their voice, a freedom temporarily stolen, a freedom so imperceptible one couldn’t make a fuss about it.

A couple petals popped up out of the ground, and the curvature of a blunt snout and little dark eyes tested the waters. “Howdy, Fris-”  
“[You are making both of us look bad.]” Frisk signed down at Flowey, hands jerking in tense motions. 

“Oh come on.” The rest of the flower popped out of the ground, intent on defending himself. “The little snot nosed brat had it coming.”

“[Oh I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware you were such a champion of justice, defender of the weak! Should I tell Undyne, maybe she has competition.]”

“Now there’s no reason to get sassy. I’m just doing what I do best.”

“[Being a professional nuisance?]”

“Doing the things you don’t have the guts to do, thank you very much.” The flower huffed and raised a vine out to Frisk- a signal to be let up onto their shoulder. The child reached down and let him snake his way onto their arm, shifting the weight of their backpack onto the other shoulder. “I will admit though,” he continued. “That I was not expecting you to just deck him.”

“[I don’t want to talk about it.]” Frisk sighed inwardly and started making their way towards the parking lot, letting the piercing gazes of their fellow students scattered about the school yard brush over them. They wondered to themselves who would be picking them up. Hopefully it would be Papyrus, or Undyne. They would launch into whatever rambling adventure they had that day from the moment you opened the car door, and you would be free to contemplate your own day without recounting it in precise detail. Even the awkward small talk you get with Alphys would be preferable. But Frisk was not known for their high luck, they knew this. So they were not particularly surprised when they saw the silhouette of Toriel’s snout in the car window. She does work at the same school Frisk attends, after all. 

Frisk slipped quietly into the passenger seat, promptly focusing on the seatbelt and not the unbroken gaze next to them. 

“Greetings, Frisk.”

She didn’t call them “my child”. Never a good sign.

“Would you care to tell me why I had to wait for you to come out of _detention_?” Frisk reluctantly turned their head to face Toriel’s cloudy grey eyes. Not bright, like her ex-husband’s or her son’s, but soft, holding an old wisdom and an old pain. She didn’t look angry right now, she rarely did. It seemed as though the old woman couldn’t bring herself to anger towards children of any sort. Perhaps she feared it would be the last emotion they would remember from her. No, when Toriel was upset with Frisk it was a sadness, which was almost exponentially worse. The “I’m not angry, just disappointed” side effect, a perfectly crafted slope of the eyebrows and slack of the mouth that shattered Frisk’s heart faster than any magic bullet. 

Normally at this point, Frisk would apologize profusely, and both parties would move on with their lives. It is not as if this is a common occurrence, Frisk was no troublemaker beyond the occasional pilfering of an extra piece of pie. And yet, they couldn’t get their hands to form the right apology. Instead Frisk moved to form something else, their hands moving before their mind could bother to catch up with them. 

“[I didn’t have a choice.]” Neither mother nor child seemed convinced by this argument, but Frisk knew they had to stand by it. It was the truth of the situation, after all.

“You always have a choice, Frisk.”

“[I had already _tried_ to talk to them.]” A flurried emphasis on “tried”. “[I was just trying to get him to stop picking on Monster Kid. It was during lunch before any of the teachers had gotten there, they kept tripping him.]” They frowned to themselves, remembering the image of the small armless lizard monster attempting to grasp a lunch tray with his maw, awkwardly wobbling his way to a seat he couldn’t see whilst placing more focus on maintaining his milk carton’s balance. Frisk kept telling him to get someone else to carry his tray for him, but really, what is the point of such a suggestion? He was bound to refuse help. No monster wants to admit to needing extra help, drawing attention to whatever anomaly they may be. Not right now. “[When I went to try and talk to the main kid,]” Frisk continued, “[His friends got in front of me. They were trying to keep me from helping MK.]”

Toriel looked conflicted. “And your reaction was to punch one of them? Frisk, staff was talking about it in the lounge, you almost broke his nose-”

Frisk cut off both Toriel’s concerned rebuttal and an amused snort from Flowey, who had been remaining surprisingly silent since they had sat down, with another flurry of signs. “I needed to help him, they were kicking him to keep him from getting back up! I couldn’t just let it happen!”

“Frisk, violence is never the answer, no matter how hopeless it seems. I thought I raised you better than that.” Toriel had shifted the parking gear into drive and the old used car- on loan from a coworker of her’s- lurched into motion. It was Flowey’s cue to play translator, so Toriel could keep her eyes on the road. 

Frisk didn’t miss a beat. “Raised me? All you taught me about mercy was to have a pleasant conversation with a training dummy until you could come along and solve my problems!” Their face contorted into an expression of disbelief. Normally, Flowey would interject his own commentary where he saw it fit when translating on Frisk’s behalf, but for once chose to refrain, put off by where the tone of the conversation was going. Instead he just focused on keeping a tone of voice that matched Frisk’s offended words. 

Toriel seemed to have reeled back slightly at the bitterness of Frisk’s words. “Perhaps… “raised” was not the right way to phrase it-”

“ _It couldn’t have been worse! I spent just over a week with you down there. Don’t tell me I’m disobeying some moral lesson you never taught me!_ ” There was a slight pause, a hesitation. “ _Stop mixing up what you taught me and what you taught Chara._ ” Flowey ever-so-slightly stumbled over his delivery, choking on the name. Why did Frisk have to go there. They’ve had a bad day, they’re upset, they’re angry at themselves and the world. Of course they went there.

Toriel’s grip locked on the steering wheel, and she twitched, apparently wanting to whip her head around before remembering she was driving at the hectic start of a rush hour. It was a blessing the city allowed even a few monsters to drive with such little education. These new machines were a bit nerve wracking to her, when her memories of human transportation had them on horseback. She began to hiss out in an outlet of the stress, “ _Frisk_. You-” She breathed. Calmness was important right now. Her lashing out at Frisk would only escalate this. “Frisk, this is not just a matter of anything I may or may not have told you. This is a matter of responsibility. You are our ambassador, everything you’re doing is being watched, and analyzed and judged. Everything you do is a reflection of what humans believe monsters will do. If you resort to violence, even with good intentions, you risk what progress monsters have made at appearing peaceful.” She glances over sideways at Frisk, her face losing what anger had begun to build up behind those tired eyes. “I know it’s hard-”

“ _I don’t want to be an ambassador any more_ \- Wait what?!” Flowey cut off his own dull recitation with a sharp little shriek, just as shocked by the admittance as Toriel was. Frisk, on the other hand, had turned their attention to the outside world. Glassy office buildings morphed into lines of businesses and houses, which gradually shifted into patches of abandoned plots of land as the car drove up further into the mountain, the surrounding foliage melting in blurs of green. They didn’t feel like looking over. They didn’t feel much of anything. 

Toriel let the silence hang heavy in the air, trying to form coherent thoughts through the emotions bubbling up at her surface. Flowey, on the other hand, was focused on putting together his own argument, the first point of interest being “don’t be a fucking idiot”. It was a quiet car ride.

The car slipped its way onto a gravel road, leading to a seemingly failed housing settlement. Unsure of what to do with the sudden influx of residents, Ebott City had haphazardly assigned a set away half mile long area intended to be a new neighborhood- a venture that didn’t make it much farther than a dozen ranch houses due to complaints and fear of landslides- as the new “monster refugee camp”. It’s fairly clear then as to why over half the population of monsters had retreated back into the familiarity of the mountain. But at least we know we can leave, Gerson had told Toriel, chipper and smiling and hiding back the disappointment like everyone else was. 

“Frisk…” Toriel’s voice was gentle as the car came to a rest in front of their house. Frisk focused on the pie they could see resting on the windowsill, and the little bed of flowers already promptly planted beneath, courtesy of Asgore. “I cannot hope to understand the pressure you are under right now,” she said, despite having every idea of what it was like as Queen of the Underground. “I cannot force you to give up your childhood on our behalf. But please… Do not give up on us just yet. Frisk, you are so brave, so determined. I don’t know who else we could turn to for help, because none of us monsters are strong enough to act like you.” There was a long pause, as the woman pleaded at the back of a coffee colored head.

“Excuse me, I could do their job easily.”

“...None of us monsters are strong enough and _well mannered enough_ to act like you.” Toriel side-eyed the little flower, while he gently prodded Frisk’s side. It was enough to get a quiet, subtle huff from them. A little laugh.

Toriel’s eyes lit up and she chucked as well, and Frisk turned and smiled up at their adopted mother with as much strength as they could muster and Flowey huffed and snarled about the both of them laughing at him even if it was exactly what he was trying to get to happen.  
“[I’m sorry, Mom. I’m just so tired.]”

Toriel brushed away the flop of hair that always seemed to incessantly make it’s way into Frisk’s eye. “I know, my child. You must really get to bed earlier.” She gave the human an admonishing boop on the nose, before wrapping her arms tightly around them. “I am so proud of you for standing up for us.” Frisk buried their head into the folds of Toriel’s dress collar and underneath the white ear that always laid neatly against her shoulder. A silent apology, before the two unwound at the unsubtle groaning coming from the side. 

“Yaaaay the family tragedy has been solved I’m hungry.” Flowey was already fiddling with the door handle.

“[You don’t need to eat, Flowey.]”

“I thought the excuse was politer than ‘this is going to make me vomit’.”

Frisk grinned while Toriel was making her own way to the front door, laughing lightly. “[Well how chivalrous of you. You’re practically a gentleman-goat. A gentlegoat.]” Frisk continued smugly on, re-positioning the flower on their shoulder while it quietly grumbled something about “stop bringing that up and don’t let Toriel see”. 

\---

Just as the front door swung open, a series of voices hushed in the adjoining room, the attached bodies not quite visible from the entryway. Toriel wondered to herself, she didn’t think they would have guests over today. But then again, their friends were known for stopping by unplanned and unannounced. Yet, the hush came so speedily, as if they were intruding in on a secret meeting. It was unnerving. Not long after, a gentle padding grew louder and the door to the living room opened, revealing a Sans trying too hard to appear totally calm. Frisk had learned the subtleties of a skeleton’s expressions by now. While the skull was unnaturally pliable compared to a typical human’s, it still takes a refined eye to tell which of his smile’s were legitimate or not. The eyes- eye sockets, perhaps- always gave it away. 

He looked up at the goat monster towering above him. Sans was not a small monster, but much of his size went more into his bulky stature than his height. The blue parka he frequently wore, as heat and cold has little effect on someone comprised of nothing but bones, only added to his blocky appearance. But at this point he looked like he was trying to make himself smaller than Flowey. “Heya Toriel, welcome home...” He spoke softer than usual, a deep vaguely Brooklyn drawl forming his words. “We uh, well. Everyone’s here, I had to call everyone here ‘cuz we got some guests. I texted you about it, butcha didn’t respond.”

Toriel’s eyes popped open a bit in surprise. “Oh my, I’m sorry Sans. Frisk and I were having a discussion in the car, I forgot to check it before we started driving.”

Sans gave a nervous chuckle in response. “Well, at least ya weren’t try’na read it while you were driving. Don’t wantcha to be a bad influence on the kid, heh…” He seemed to be avoiding eye contact with Frisk, the little points of light instead dodging between the floor and Toriel’s inquisitive face. “You all can come on in, I guess. Your house, after all, heh…” He held the door open and let the three Dreemurrs slip into the room, gazing out at the unexpected crowd.

Asgore was the first one to pipe up, a bit surprisingly. 

“Oh. Howdy, Frisk.” The massive goat monster was doing his best to take up a socially respectable amount of space, holding arms fit for swinging around a ten foot trident close to his sweater, instead daintily pinching a porcelain tea cup between gangly claws. The understated way he held himself among friends was always an odd contrast to his stature; It seems like being absurdly tall runs in the family. Frisk absentmindedly wondered to themselves what Asgore would think about his son being taller than him; a lanky, skinny height, but still taller. He’d probably be proud. 

Next to Asgore lounged Undyne, feet propped up on the coffee table because Toriel wasn’t there to chastise her for it. She had an arm wrapped around Alphys, who sat curled and fidgeting with her tail that was flipped up in front of her. She was dressed in a bouncy spring dress with a print of one anime character or another along the side. She and Undyne must have been out enjoying the weather, just before it turned into the stickiness of the summer. Even Mettaton was present, a somewhat rare sight considering the monsters would ship him off to do speeches almost as much as Frisk. His more human appearance and experience with pleasing the public made him particularly useful in managing friendly relations. But now he was propped up, sitting on the back of the sofa, legs crossed and dangling next to Alphys’ head and one arm holding up his weight. He gave Frisk and Toriel a polite smile, remaining uncharacteristically silent. Next to them was Papyrus, the only one seeming to be unphased by the sullen mood of the room. He flashed a big grin at Frisk- what else can he really do?- and waved at them.

“Hello, human!! Welcome home! You will be happy to know that because I knew you would be running late, I graciously saved you a seat!” Pleased with his own perceived chivalry, he gestured to the empty seat, and by extension, the two unfamiliar figures next to him. Frisk, Flowey and Toriel all stared out at these figures, sitting stiff-backed up at the edge of the sofa as if they were preparing to play a judged piano solo. Both had their eyes locked on Frisk. 

Characteristically, Flowey was the one to break the awkward silence. “Who the hell are they?” Toriel was too focused on the intruders to snap back at the flower’s swear and tone. 

Sans shifted his weight to another foot and plucked the same residual white fur off of his shorts that covers most of a Dreemurr’s house. Papyrus raised a finger to speak before Mettaton jabbed him sharply with a foot to stay silent. Alphys sunk lower into Undyne’s side, refusing to make eye contact while Undyne looked over at Asgore expectantly. He took a deep breath, and looked at Frisk with those same sad, reddish orange, tea colored eyes that he had just over a month ago. 

“Frisk, these humans are Nicki and Richard Beaumont.” He glanced over at the woman with her sunhat resting neatly on her lap and the man in his pressed suit.

“They say that… That they are your natural parents, Frisk.”


End file.
